The Days of the After and Behind

I was walking in the dust Through the half-closed spaces Incrustations of mud and dew Resins dripped in the stone. I discerned a man, alone, Frightened eyes, red of pain. I was walking in the pale wintry sun Through the substrates of the wind Mosaics of clouds like raging herds. I discerned a crow, fierce, scanning the horizon… Vitreous eyes... and silver tears... Notes of a new pentagram, White pages ready to shelter obscure mysteries. I was walking in the dust Through the half-closed spaces Incrustations of mud and dew Resins dripped in the stone. I discerned a man, alone, Frightened eyes, red of pain. These are the days of the after and behind, The days of the present, that rolls by slow and full. I was walking in the dust Through the half-closed spaces Mosaics of clouds like raging herds. I was walking in the dust Through the half-closed spaces Vitreous eyes and silver tears.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025